


Paperwork (or, Max can’t mind his own business)

by gigawatts



Category: Sam & Max
Genre: Fluff, Freelance Husbands, Humor, Love Confessions, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Pre-Relationship, albeit not on purpose?, it’s really sappy be warned, max snoops around in things he shouldn’t and bam finds out Sam is in love w him, they kiss and stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:42:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24482962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gigawatts/pseuds/gigawatts
Summary: While waiting for Sam to finish doing paperwork, a bored and irritated Max finds himself snooping through Sam’s belongings. When he finds a journal belonging to Sam, all is fun and games until Max realizes all the entries are about Sam’s feelings for him.(silly ooc oneshot I wrote instead of sleeping! these boys are hard to write. this is my first post to AO3 despite being here for years, so go easy on me)
Relationships: Max/Sam (Sam & Max)
Comments: 17
Kudos: 190





	Paperwork (or, Max can’t mind his own business)

The office was uncharacteristically quiet.

Not that the office itself had character - though it definitely did - but that the characters inhabiting it were unusually silent.

The Manhattan streets outside were as rowdy as ever, with the same tried and true array of strange folks occupying the zany cesspool of Straight and Narrow. But Sam and Max’s usually rambunctious office building was not adding to the excitement.

Not even genius gumshoe/universally-adored crimefighter Flint Paper, situated next-door, was causing a ruckus. In his musings, Max concluded that he was probably off on another heart-stoppingly thrilling caper - wooing widowed dames and shooting bad guys and whatnot.

Max had been stewing in absolute boredom for what seemed like days... months... years, even... though it had only been a couple hours at most. 

Max had had a long time to think, presently, because he was stuck wandering the familiar halls of the office while Sam sat in the office and filled out necessary paperwork for The Commissioner.

Max hummed annoyedly as he thought back to Sam sternly lecturing him.

_“It’ll only be for a few hours, Max,” Sam had said in his soft voice, scratching the back of his head. “It’s just that after we submitted that bullet-hole portrait to th’ art gallery slash performative gun show, th’ finance department has been up in my drawers about why we’ve spent ten times more this month on bullets than usual.” Max’s ears had drooped as Sam continued. “And then there’s the usual case files t’ complete... because you know how th’ station gets when we don’t let ‘em know about any religious cults that you’re th’ new head of-“_

Okay... so maybe it wasn’t so much of a stern lecture and more of a sweet explanation and a pat on the head. But that didn’t stop Max from grumbling as he dragged his claws down the hallway walls like a furious middle-aged woman keying the sides of a mid-size SUV. 

In the time that Sam was taking to fill out the disgusting paperwork - _Wasn’t homework supposed to stop after high school?_ Max thought. - Max had scaled (stomped through) the entire building, squashed a dozen intruding (innocent) bugs, shuffled (shredded) a deck of cards, and lamented (complained) over the loss of his ever-fading youth.

And he had only checked in on Sam once! Sure, he had swung the door open in a child-like fit of agitation and caused a surprised Sam to spill ink all over the desk and his papers - therefore making Sam grumpier and this process taking even longer - but Max counted it as a success! Max smiled with pride thinking about how kind of a partner he was; checking up on his pal so sweetly and out of the goodness of his moth-eaten heart.

But nay... bliss was not to be had so easy. Sam had grumbled something about the unmatched joys of potential hasenpfeffer and kicked Max out of the office on his fuzzy white butt. After picking himself up and brushing himself off with a huffy “Well I never!”, Max continued his excruciating wait.

His long rabbit’s feet stomped through the office/apartment, being purposely loud enough to send a message of discontent to Sam.

Max trudged into their shared bedroom, where their maybe-too-small bunkbeds sat in the corner of the room. Sam’s lower bunk was tidy and neat, and Max’s upper bunk looked like Cthulhu’s sacred love nest from hell. Max smiled at this. Ah... as things should be.

Max had already been in here during his waiting period, as his first order of business had been to melodramatically lounge on the dresser and sigh loudly in hopes of Sam postponing his boring duties. Obviously this did not work, and Max moved on to other ventures.

However, now that he had returned, Max was thinking... he was small enough. Maybe he could fit under the bunkbeds and hide and promise not to ever come out unless Sam swore off paperwork for good. Then Sam, in an act of desperation, would devote his life to unfiled crimefighting, because of the sanctity of friendship or something. Whatever - The details didn’t matter. Max getting his way mattered.

Giggling mischievously, Max squatted down and crawled under Sam’s bunk. It was a tight fit, even for a focused three-foot lagomorph, but he did it. Now all he had to do was wait for Sam to be done and go looking for him.

Max laughed to himself as his foolproof plan, but somewhere in his mind he connected that this wouldn’t exactly be a comfortable wait. It was snug and stuffy and who knew how long Sam would be until he was done...

Shaking his head, Max focused on the task at hand. He would not be swayed to leave his spot even though his back was hurting from being hunched over like this, or even though he had to keep sweeping his ears out of his eyes because of how they were squished over his head against the bottom of the bunk. Ugh. This wasn’t going to be fun.

As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, Max noticed he was surrounded by various random items. These must have been tucked away by Sam; as if he didn’t already have a million useless things from their years of crimefighting and countless possible “we might need this later”s as an excuse to steal without guilt. 

Max looked over the bounty Sam had put under the bed. There were several different gun magazines and periodicals, what Max could make out to be a coffee-stained high school diploma, various forgotten mugs (uncleaned), an old band t-shirt with a foreboding mystery stain on the collar that Max wasn’t going to subject his pristine white fur to, and countless other odd things.

Max’s ears perked - as much as they could in his position - as he picked up a stray magic 8-ball and gazed into its center. Oh, the mysteries of the universe that his black sphere held. In a hushed, almost respectful tone of voice, Max asked, “Magic 8-ball... does Flint Paper think about me?”

Shaking the ball heartily, Max held his breath. The pyramid inside the ball read, “Don’t count on it.” Max threw the ball across the room in a fit of anger.

Eyebrows furrowing, Max continued to scan the tight space. “Those things are bogus anyways,” he grumbled. Sweeping away a policing handbook still covered in cellophane and an assortment of empty soda cans, Max blinked as he stumbled upon something he didn’t recognize. 

It was a black book with a rubber band bookmark that doubled as a flimsy sort of semi-lock. Turning it over in his hands, Max saw that it had no text on the front or back of the cover. It was obviously not blank though, as it was worn down with time and obviously well-loved. Throwing caution to the wind, Max snapped open the rubber band and opened the book, not knowing what to expect. He offhandedly thought to himself that it was very fortunate he ended up learning how to read. He turned to the front page, spotting familiar handwriting that read, _Property of Sam - CONFIDENTIAL!!!_

Max’s eyes became saucers. The handwriting in this used-to-be-blank book was Sam’s. It’s under Sam’s bunk. This couldn’t be...

Flipping through the pages quickly, Max realized all of them were filled with his best pal’s charmingly sloppy handwriting. He gasped dramatically as a huge grin broke out on his face. He started giggling.

“Sam has a DIARY?! Like a TEENAGE GIRL?!” Max laughed as he shut the book and put his hand to his forehead. Ohhhh god. This would give him teasing material for the next decade, knowing that Sam sat awake gabbing into these pages like a nary-understood tween documenting her cafetorium-set tales of woe. Max had struck SOLID GOLD!

But... somewhere in his head, Max’s usually quiet conscience perked up. Did he really want to invade his best buddy’s privacy like this? It did read “confidential” in purposely-large handwriting. And seeing as Max was the only person that Sam could’ve had fear of finding it, the message felt incredibly personal. Max held the still-unclosed book against him, puzzled. Sure this would give him excellent blackmail material, but what could he even want that Sam wouldn’t happily supply? Max never had to blackmail Sam before, and he seriously doubted he ever would have to, or even want to. And furthermore, what could a straight-laced lug like Sam even need to hide away in a diary so no one else could see? What secrets would he even need to keep?

Max was brought out of his train of thought by a loose slip falling out of the diary. It was a page from the book, now falling free due to the old and weak binding. How convenient. Max reasoned that this was a sign. If the page, probably a grocery list, was mundane and boring, he would find himself skimming a couple pages and then closing the book out of boredom, just to forget about it minutes later. If the page was shocking and life-changingly dramatic, like a gritty murder confession, Max would decide from there whether or not to let ignorance be bliss and put the book away or to continue reading. Simple logic.

Figuring that this was the best compromise between sick curiosity and respect of privacy, Max decided to take the plunge.

Turning the page over, Max started reading. As he did, though, his heart dropped through his stomach and his face became beet red. Holy shit.

_“February 22nd  
Sometimes I don’t know how I can take this. I’m losing my mind. I spend everyday, all day with Max, and yet I never even come close to mustering up the courage to show him how I truly feel about him. Everyday I wake up and think to myself “today’s the day you’re going to tell your best friend you’re madly in love with him! Whether you or him likes it or not! What could possibly go wrong?” And then I sweat through my entire day, wondering if somehow my love adoration for him is spilling out and becoming noticeable. Then I go to sleep with him directly above me, and I listen to him snore and I ask myself why I didn’t do it today. Why didn’t I tell Max today that I love him? Well, me, the answer is obvious! There is too much weighing on this. I would much rather have Max in my life as a friend than not have him around at all just because I let him know how desperately I want to hold him._

_I don’t know how much more I can take before I either lose my mind or grab Max by the shoulders and kiss him without thinking first. I would do that anyways if I didn’t think I’d get rejected. I’m not as brave as I make myself out to be. And I’m in fact quite the coward where Max is concerned.”_

Max blinked his eyes repeatedly, lowering the loose page. Holy shit. Hoooooly shit. Holy shit holy shit. Holy shit.

Once again Max thanked his lucky stars that he decided to learn how to read, because he then read the page again. And then three more times.

After almost coming to his senses and realizing what this all meant, and then fact-checking again to make sure he wasn’t just dreaming, Max put a sweaty white paw to his temple. He was NOT the type to ever be speechless, but today was apparently full of surprises.

First off on the list of surprises, Max was surprised to find that he suddenly felt bad for making Sam spill the ink all over his paperwork earlier. Obviously Sam’s devotion runs pretty deep if Max can pull an annoying, petty stunt like that and still have Sam write mushy love notes about him in his diary.

And that leads to major surprise number two... Sam was in love with him. Apparently. Allegedly. According to this diary entry, written by Sam, in Sam’s handwriting, under Sam’s bed. Using words from Sam’s brain.

Huh. Neat.

And then, surprise number three. Max was STILL speechless. Usually he would’ve blurted some witty quip just to untense the air for himself - not for anyone to hear besides him. But... Max couldn’t think of anything to say. He was too busy grinning like an idiot with a face as red as a firetruck.

Sam was in love with him. Max was still trying to wrap his head around it. Sam was in love with him! Sam, his brilliant, charming, handsome, doofy, hilarious lifetime best friend was in love with him, Max. Sam had written a heart-wrenching entry of seemingly-unrequited love for his best friend into his diary, detailing how he aches to show him how he truly feels. What an utter sap.

And yet, Max thought as he laughed happily and somehow turned redder, the amazing thing was that it wasn’t unrequited. 

Not at all. 

In fact, Max was quickly realizing how alike he and his best pal truly were. Because Max had been head over heels for his partner in justice for... probably more than twenty years.

What an insane thought. 

Max had been in love with Sam for as long as he could remember knowing what love was. Max had pined over his best friend for the majority of his life. Max had chosen a life with Sam, even if he thought Sam would never be able to love him back.

And now he knew that he did.

Max wasn’t usually one to giggle like a school girl but that’s exactly what he found himself doing as he looked back down at the sweet, sweet piece of paper in his hands.

They loved each other! 

All of a sudden, Max caught onto a coherent thought amongst the dreamy fuzz. This was only one entry, right? One entry in this nearly-filled book? Max’s pulse quickened from its already lightning pace.

No... this couldn’t be.... could it? No. But maybe...

Max opened the book once again, slowly flipping through the pages. His eyes caught on their contents. He would never admit it aloud, but he could’ve sworn he had swooned right there.

All the diary entries were about him.

“Gosh,” Max said quietly, smiling and flipping through the pages, a grounding hand on his face, “He sure does know how t’ flatter a guy.” 

Max absently wondered where Sam found the time to write these, seeing as they were always together and these entries were in abundance. But now that he really thought about it, he guessed he did usually fall asleep first; sometimes even leaving Sam watching television to turn in early (not that he was always tired, but going to sleep early means waking up early to another day of freelance justice). Max had figured that whenever he wasn’t around, Sam just sat by himself and monologued to himself like Flint Paper does.

Flipping through the pages, Max stopped on a random entry and took a closer peek. This was a dangerous game, choosing full entries to read. Too much sweetness and he could get cavities on his stark-white shark teeth. That just wouldn’t do. Max read.

_“July 2nd  
I don’t think it’s possible for me to say no to Max. I just can’t seem to resist the little bugger. Today he begged and pleaded to pilot the monster truck combination attack helicopter and I was actually crazy enough to give in!”_

Max laughed out loud. Ohhhh yeah he did. And it was glorious.

_“Obviously it was a mistake because Max has never successfully piloted anything in his entire life. Sometimes I doubt he could ride a tricycle without something bursting into flames.”_

Max looked up for a moment in thought. Hmm... maybe... no, no. Another day. He continued.

_“But I really just can never find it in me to say no to him when he really tries. Sure, it’s easy enough to just shove his fluffy butt out of my way when I’m trying to get stuff done, but when he wants something and he looks up at me with those brown eyes... god. I fall more in love with him every day. It’s a miracle I have just enough sense not to let him behind the wheel of the car anymore. But a horrified part of me thinks that if he really wanted, he could be able to do that too.”_

Max, underneath his moronic grin and his blush, noted that important information somewhere in his brain. _glaring beady eyes at sam = keys to desoto_

Max cracked his knuckles and flipped ahead to another random page to start reading.

_“November 15  
I almost did it today. I almost kissed him.”_

Max’s eyes narrowed and he grinned again. This one was already good.

_“I just nearly let him know how I felt. After we escaped from the evil flaming robot petting zoo before it exploded like a rich kid’s science fair model volcano, we just jumped and danced around laughing and just being glad we made it. It’s times like those that make me feel like a little kid again, and it’s times like those that make me want to spend the rest of my life with Max._

_He smiled up at me with his sweet face, all joyful and excited and everything, and I could just feel myself leaning into him, without even thinking about it! Then he blinked and I blinked, and I turned away! I sincerely hope he didn’t notice what I was doing. Sure, it could’ve gone perfectly, but it also could’ve been a disaster.”_

Max certainly remembered that day; they had gone out for ice cream afterwards. Luckily for Sam, he hadn’t noticed Sam’s advances. Unluckily for himself, he thinks it’s because the rocky landing left him slightly concussed. 

But still... how great would that had been if Sam had kissed him?

Max continued looking through the book, reading passage after passage, absolutely giddy with excitement. 

The excitement wasn’t just from the fact that now he knew this vital, important, wonderful, perfect information. It wasn’t because of how his heart pounded when he read the lovely descriptions Sam wrote of him. It wasn’t because of the thrill he was getting from scandalously digging through his best friend’s love notes. It wasn’t even because he had mixed soda with mentos and the concoction was fermenting in his stomach.

No; Max was excited because he knew that even though Sam might be too afraid to act on these feelings, he knew he wouldn’t be. And he was going to show Sam exactly how he felt.

He wasn’t sure how much time had gone by. He hoped that Sam would be done with his paperwork soon. Closing the book, tying the rubber band around it, and setting it back into its original position, Max crawled out from under the bed. He blinked repeatedly as his eyes adjusted to the sunlight coming in from the windows in their bedroom. Standing up, his back cracked loudly. The position he had been in for however long hadn’t been a comfortable one, that’s for sure.

Stepping out of the bedroom, he quickly padded down the hallway to where he knew Sam was working. Max peeked his head into the main office, where Sam was sitting in his chair at his desk, picking up the scattered files and organizing them happily. Max grinned. He arrived just in time. Sam was done.

Max also noticed how disheveled Sam looked; it was obvious he had run his hand through the fur on his head in concentration more than a couple times, and he had taken off his jacket, loosened his tie and unbuttoned the first couple buttons on his dress shirt. Somewhere, off in the distance, Max offhandedly registered that this is what Lifetime movie moments are made of.

Max unceremoniously entered the room, and Sam noticed him, instantly brightening. 

“Perfect timing, little buddy! I just finished up th’ last of it. It turned out t’ be much easier explainin’ a surplus use of bullets than I thought it would be,” Sam chuckled, obviously proud, “I just wrote that we found ourselves in a sticky, compromising position inside a cramped Chuck E. Cheese crawl-around tunnel and had t’ lock and load t’ get free from some especially stubborn tots. Clever, huh?”

Max smirked. “Sure Sam, but maybe instead of tunnels, ya’ should’ve said we were getting engulfed by snot-nosed brats in a wet ball pit! Now that’s a reason t’ shoot aimlessly if I’ve ever heard one.” 

Sam chuckled and it sounded like warm honey. Does that make sense? Max cringed internally. Okay... sappy.

“You crack me up, little buddy.” Sam picked up the files he had been organizing when Max has walked in and put them in a large, yellow envelope. “What kinds of zany, vomit-inducingly fun things did ya’ do while I was working?”

Max looked around and casually and started picking his teeth. “Oh, nothing out of th’ ordinary, Sam! Just ran away t’ a mermaid colony and became their high ruler, leading them in their torrid battle against jealous and blood-thirsty neighboring fish-person clans. We rallied together t’ great victory and regained our valiant status as th’ champions of th’ undersea. Really, it couldn’t have been more boring.”

Sam raised an eyebrow and snorted. “You and your way of always becoming high leader, Max. It’s a gift. And I hope that was a joke, little pal, because if it wasn’t, I have t’ write that down too,” Sam scratched his head, “I sometimes can’t tell with you.”

Max stretched out against the door frame like a cat who’d gotten the cream. “It was a joke, Sam. But good t’ know I’ve still got th’ improv chops of a socially-inept, out of college theatre hopeful.”

Sam finally stretched after completing his work. As he did, his stomach grumbled. “Ya’ always have, little buddy. Now that I’m done, do ya’ wanna grab a bite to eat?” 

Max bit his lip. “Sure, Sam, but could we maybe talk about somethin’ first?” It felt strange for Max to ask such an uncharacteristically tense opening question. He could sense Sam gulp from across the room. He almost felt bad for the guy; he was about to get mighty stressed. Whoopsie.

“Sure, Max,” Sam pulled at his already loose collar. “What about?”

Max padded over and sat on top of the desk, across from Sam. Looking straight ahead, he decided to just rip the bandage off quick, to save himself the misery of anticipation and Sam the misery of intense dread.

“Well. Uh... I accidentally found your diary.”

The room was tense and silent for a moment, until Max felt Sam’s eyes on him. Sam’s voice cracked dramatically. “You whAT?”

Max successfully kept himself from not laughing at the voice crack. “I didn’t mean t’ snoop, Sam, but I was under th’ bunk beds and a page fell out and well... I read it?” Max purposely left out the details of himself opening the book, examining it, and proceeding to laugh at its existence.

Max finally made eye contact with Sam, who looked like he had gotten hit by a freight train.

The room was silent again for a tick until Sam stood up from his chair and grabbed Max roughly by the shoulders. All of a sudden, Max was victim to an onslaught of panicked ranting from his partner. Max could feel his tail twitch.

“OH MY GOD MAX I AM SO SORRY YOU FOUND THAT I’M SO SORRY IF IT MADE YOU UNCOMFORTABLE IF YOU NEVER WANT T’ TALK ABOUT IT AGAIN THAT’S FINE IF YOU WANT T’ WALK OUT THIS DOOR I WILL UNDERSTAND COMPLETELY I AM SO SORRY MAX I DIDN’T MEAN FOR THIS T-“

“SAM!” Max stood up quickly and gripped both sides of Sam’s mortified face. “SHUT UP!” 

“WH-“ Suddenly, Sam was silenced when Max jumped up, feet on Sam’s chest, his tacky black and blue tie in his hands acting as a sturdy rope, and kissed Sam smack on the mouth.

The two morons stood there for a few moments, both on different wavelengths. Max was thinking about how surprisingly nice kissing a dog was and why he hadn’t before now, and Sam was wondering what warehouse of nuns that he had saved in his lifetime to be able to deserve this wonderful turn of events.

Before it seemed their kiss started, it was over. Max pulled away from Sam’s mouth, tie still in hands, but with his feet now planted back on the desk.

“Holy crazed Caucasian Californians howling like hyenas in heat at the notion of navigating contraband cabin cruisers to private karaoke canopies in Constantinople, Max! You... kissed me?”

Max shrugged, amused. “I did.”

The two best friends just stared at each other for a few long moments, both wondering what to do. Apparently Sam’s brilliant idea was to kiss again, and Max silently agreed. So they did.

After several long minutes of incredibly happy kissing, Sam begrudgingly pulled away, out of breath. 

“W-Wait, wait,” Sam huffed, eyebrows furrowed, “So does this mean that... if you read what I wrote then... you... love me?” 

Max could’ve sworn Sam had never looked more irresistible than in that moment. He grinned, his arms now around Sam’s neck. “Are ya’ not getting enough oxygen to your brain? I think that’s a big fat yes, dummy.”

Sam beamed, and then kissed him again.

Over the course of their greasy dinner out, Sam repeatedly attempted to explain to Max that he did not write in a “diary”, and instead it was a hand-binded, leather-back personal “journal”. However, these pleas fell on long, deaf ears. 

What didn’t fall on long, deaf ears though, was Sam’s quiet offer to personally read the rest of the journal to Max.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!! I hope you enjoyed it :,)


End file.
